Followed
by Rainweaver76
Summary: A familiar face in the crowd brings troubling news. M for language. Part of a larger story I'm working on. Hope you enjoy :)
1. Chapter 1

They say that the full moon brings out the crazies and tonight had more than proven that. After what felt like an endless shift they had arrested three murderers, one arsonist, fourteen rioting punks and more drunkards, litterers, and jaywalkers than they could count. Unfortunately it was just past 1800 hours and they still had four hours left in their shift. Finding themselves near Benson Block, home to their favorite Thai food cart, she doesn't have to work too hard to convince him to stop for a dinner break.

Crossing the busy concourse they press through the dinner crowd towards the gaudy neon lights of their intended destination. They had nearly broken free of the throng when they both turn towards the jarring sound of metal clattering on the tile floor. An empty _Fizz_ soda call rolls out from between hustling feet and comes to a rest against Dredd's boot. He immediately identifies the source of the litter and raises a gloved finger in the direction of the perpetrator.

"Littering, 90 days IsoCubes," he snarls, stepping towards the man. As the crowd around them quickly parts Anderson looks up and recognizes the man. She reaches out and gently lowers Dredd's outstretched arm, causing him to look over at her questioningly as she moves up to the frazzled man who'd drawn their attention.

"S-so sorry S-sir I…, " he stutters, reaching down nervously to pick up the dropped can. Anderson steps into his immediate personal space and crosses her arms over her chest. He snaps up, standing ramrod straight as his attention swiftly focuses on the small woman in front of him. The shutters in his eyes dilate wide before he speaks again, this time barely audible in the din of the dinner crowd.

"You're b-being f-followed…" he whispers, his gaze dropping to his shaking hands.

Anderson closes what little space remained between them until they are nose to nose. She doesn't need to say anything for him to get the hint.

"S-s-shhh look m-maybe two minutes after you walked in, two m-more Judges came in and looked around l-l-like they were looking for s-something. I s-saw you b-because well right," he starts, his cheeks flushing an even ruddier shade before he continues. "I s-saw them, and then they s-saw you and w-w-went upstairs. They're on the M-Mezzanine w-watching us," he rambles, intentionally not looking away from her concentrated gaze. She can sense that every fiber of his being wants to look around frantically but that he's desperately trying to focus and not draw any additional attention to himself.

Dredd hears all of this and skips the pleasantries.

"And you immediately assume they're following us? In a busy food concourse during the dinner rush?" He takes a heavy step closer and Techie flinches, shifting ever so imperceptibly closer to Anderson.

"L-l-look ok ok m-maybe that s-sounds crazy b-but **you** come in here l-like everyone else and head f-for a f-food cart. **They** come in here, l-look around l-lost, s-see you, m-make eyes at each other, and go upstairs. They're just s-sitting there, w-watching us over the b-balcony of the M-Mezz, man. S-s-sir I mean Sir," he rattles, his stutter becoming far more pronounced.

Anderson glances back up at Dredd as if to call him off before turning her attention back to Techie.

"And we should believe you why?" she inquires, curious now. She can never forget how they met and knows all too well that it was her split second decision that kept him from spending the rest of his natural life in an IsoCube, but most citizens, especially those with a history, avoid Judges at all costs. They sure as hell don't deliberately get their attention and insert themselves into the middle of something so risky. His answer, however, is simple and to the point.

"I owe you…"

His gaze drops to the floor as Anderson sighs and looks back to Dredd.

"What're our options?" she asks her partner before Techie perks back up.

"I can help?" he interjects, looking between the two Judges expectantly.

Dredd had begun to say something but turns his attention back to the wiry man, his gaze burning through his visor. Techie takes the pause as his opening and explains himself.

"Ok ok s-so if they knew you were here, but didn't know w-where you were, maybe they heard you respond to a call? M-maybe…" he reasons before Dredd interrupts.

"We weren't responding to a call and hadn't said where we were stopping for our dinner break," he replies swiftly but he's noticeably lowered his voice as if perhaps giving the nervous Tech a little credit for his concern. The slight man thinks, pressing his eyes closed.

"Then they're tracking you s-somehow… they knew you w-were here but not w-where… I think… do you park your b-bikes s-somewhere w-where…" he asks but doesn't finish his thought before Anderson raises her hand slowly to quiet him and looks up at Dredd. The worry is evident on her face. Techie catches the exchange and lowers his voice even more.

"If they had put a tracker on your s-stuff they w-wouldn't have been l-looking around. They m-must be tracking your b-bikes. L-l-look I can, I can help I…"

He's jolted out of his thought by the growl that rises from Dredd. It takes him a few beats to realize he's not actually growling at **him** so much as what he's saying. He continues.

"L-look ok so… since I got the fuck out of Peach Trees I've b-been helping… there are other s-survivors like me who run a network f-for people who need help, escape I… I have some equipment at my s-shop I… you'd be s-surprised the t-tech these assholes use when they think someone is property I…" he rambles but stops midstream to look quickly between the two Judges, his anxiety obviously rising. They both look back at him giving him their full attention.

"W-whatever it is, I can f-find it and deactivate it. I can ch-check b-both your bikes, you, your stuff, w-whatever you need I… I mean you helped me, it's the l-least I can do?" he offers, the slight rise in his voice a clear question.

Anderson glances up at Dredd one last time before turning back to Techie with a curt nod. He doesn't need any further prompting.

"Ok ok s-so you m-m-mmm Caliber Block, it's tw-twenty three minutes from here, you can m-mark it, sw-swear, m-meet me there in mmm an hour? Act normal, right?" he rattles quickly, the shutters in his eyes swirling closed to pin points as he thinks. He manages a nervous laugh and runs his shaking hands through his copper curls, trying to play this off as a perfectly normal conversation. Dredd just shakes his head and looks around, intentionally not looking at the detail on the Mezzanine above them as to not give themselves away.

"Here…" Techie whispers, reaching out hesitantly offering Anderson a handshake. She follows his thought, taking his hand and feels a small, cool disk slip into her palm. The rush of thoughts hit her with the touch and she knows without hesitation that he's being honest. She expects he realizes this as well. He doesn't let go of her hand before he continues.

"Ok ok s-so see that will… when you get t-to your bikes you w-want to press that and… and it will knock out your comms and… and ok but it will also knock out whatever they are using to track you ok? So just press it right b-before you leave for Caliber ok? Ok ok I will… mmm there is a garage, l-leads under the block, on the s-south side. Come in that way. Come b-back to the east wall. I'll f-find you there ok?" He watches her expectantly, his weight shifting back and forth between his feet. This is what he does. This is what he knows. And she's going to trust him.

Anderson gives him a firm handshake and slips her palm away, cupping the transmitter into her belt.

"You have a good night, citizen," she states clearly, giving him a final nod before turning her body towards Dredd. Techie nods sharply and scurries away, not once glancing back at them as he vanishes into the crowd. She waits just a beat until he's clear and looks up at Dredd, cocking her head slightly.

"Suppose our dinner break just got shortened. We should probably grab our food and go. Might look odd if we leave without the food we came in here for. I really don't want to raise suspicions and have them waiting for us at our bikes when we leave," she declares just loudly enough for him to hear but no one else. His fists clench at his sides as he looks down at her, concern hidden behind the dark visor.

"And you trust him?" he asks, not at all comfortable with the situation. She furrows her brow at his question.

"The list of people I trust is painfully short," she replies, her gaze focused on him. "However he was, again, telling us the truth, and he clearly meant it when he said he owed us. I say we eat quickly and head to Caliber Block."


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting at a small table, they poke at their white boxes of Pad Thai, silence passing between them. They don't need to speak. The less they say aloud the less likely they were to peak anyone's interest. He glances up from his noodle stabbing to survey the immediate surroundings before looking over at her and back down to his food. That was his signal that she had his permission, so rarely given.

_Do you want me to try to…_

_ No._

_You think they'd notice..._

_ Yes._

_It may be worth…_

_ No._

_But I…_

_ No._

His answer hits her with the cautiousness she expects but tinged with something else, something she'd begun to feel from him lately but couldn't put a name to. She lifts her unfocused gaze from her noodles to find his attention has shifted to her, his stabbing conspicuously ceased. She shifts her focus to his now still hands before continuing. She could take a hint.

_I am going to safely assume you can get to Caliber from here without the overheads…_

_ Yes._

_So when we get to the bikes I'll trigger whatever this is and follow you…_

There was a pause as she felt it again yet stronger. She'd dare say it felt almost like worry but not quite. Concern?

_ Correct… but wait until we get to the street._

Pulling back from the edges of his mind, she takes a few last bites of her now mutilated meal and pushes it away. He gives his one last jab and stands, depositing both boxes in the ReCyc bin behind them before waiting for her to follow. He turns and gives the concourse a once over before leaving, as would be expected, but hesitates briefly before beating a path out towards the street. She can hear him growl just under his breath that their detail had vanished. The comment causes her to raise her guard, unsure now if they might be waiting for them at their bikes, but she keeps her focus straight ahead of her and follows him out of the block with haste.

Arriving at their bikes they find themselves alone save for the expected comings and goings of the evening. He quickly straddles his bike and pauses, glancing back at her. She nods before mounting her own and focuses, pushing out to touch the consciousnesses around them. Finding no others particularly interested in their business she gives a slight shake of her head. With that he revs his bike and pulls out of the space, headed towards the nearest gate. She follows behind and meets him at the street, engines idling. He raises his hand to her, a signal to hold, before radioing in.

"Judges Dredd and Anderson returning to duty, 1843 from Benson Block," he states flatly, waiting for response.

A woman's voice chirps an "Affirmative," over their commlinks and Dredd turns his attention back to his partner. Reaching down into her belt clip Anderson finds the little round chip and presses it between her fingers. Not sure what to expect, she sees her wrist comm flash and go dark. Dredd is, however, wearing his helmet and pauses again, looking up into the cityscape without the obstruction of a data stream in his vision. She doesn't hear the quiet grunt over the hum of their engines but follows his lead as he nods just east and pulls away from the garage, merging into the flow of traffic.

There was something almost freeing, to weave in and out between lanes without the constant barrage of information in his field of view. Unleashed, as it were, riding in the crisp dusk air by wits and skill alone. She had noticed this shift in him as well, as if for those brief twenty-three minutes he had become more man than machine. She knew better than to mention it, however, as they rounded the south side of Caliber block and slowed. Pulling up beside him she searched the surrounding area for thoughts turned their way and only found one, scattered and somewhat frantic, coming from within the garage. She nods towards the gates and follows as he drives into the darkened garage.

Caliber was one of the smaller blocks in the sector, not towering as high as its neighbors and remarkable only in that it was not entirely overrun by gangs. The families here were mostly working class and the signs for shops on the concourse reflected that with adverts for a uniform store, shoe repair, and a small grocer. The choice of location surely added to the lingering questions she had concerning her nervous ginger friend and what he'd been up to since Peach Trees. She didn't stay long in that thought as she catches a glimpse of motion along the back wall. The now familiar profile turns towards a lift gate and it starts to rise, revealing a brightly lit room. He slips beneath the low gate and vanishes as the metal slats rattle to a stop. Taking this as their invitation, Dredd and Anderson cut their engines and glide their Lawmasters inside, passing the slender man who stood waiting behind the door. Once clear he presses another button and the gate lurches, gears grinding as it closes them off from the garage.

Anderson is acutely aware of another presence in the room, her eyes quickly scanning over tables covered in tools, one pushed aside haphazardly to make room for their bikes, racks of equipment stacked high in the corners, an elaborate if not chaotic computer entombed by a snarl of cables, and finally the form of a shockingly slender young woman, perched unmoving atop a low table aside another door. Dredd notices her soon after, his question abbreviated when Techie speaks up.

"S-sister, can you keep an eye on s-south gate please?" he asks, not looking up from the task at hand. The slender woman unfurls from her perch without so much as a sound, uncanny in a room filled to the brink with metal clutter. She slips through the near door and is enveloped by the darkened hallway beyond before the door pulls closed behind her. Anderson and Dredd exchange a look before both turning to Techie, expecting an explanation. None comes as he moves into his cocoon of cables and brings up what appears to be an array of video feeds quickly identified by both Judges as the surrounding block. He extracts himself from the tangle and waves absently at the screens before speaking up.

"If you want to keep an eye… can never be too careful," he suggests to the room, garnering Dredd's attention. Standing from his Lawmaster, he steps towards the corner where he can keep an eye on both the screens and Techie. Anderson rises as well but splits her attention between the jittery man and the darkened door.

"She's your sister?" she asks, curiously. She had not picked up any familial connections from him on the occasions she had to have been in his head, so the suggestion intrigued her. She moved to lean against the table the young woman had vacated and watched him work. Lowering himself to the cracked concrete floor between the two Lawmasters, Techie pulls out a small scanner and starts examining the undercarriage of each bike.

"They're all my s-sisters," he offers as a vague reply, adjusting himself to get a better reach under the large machines. Anderson is, of course, not satisfied with such a non-answer.

"I was of the impression your family was dead," she responds flatly, garnering a distressed glance from the man on the floor. He sets the scanner down on the floor beside him and pulls a small metal bit resembling a spider from beneath the rear assembly of Dredd's Lawmaster. His fingers trace up along the wires still connecting the tracker to the bike and he begins to pull, disengaging the rest of the electronics from beneath the bike. He tosses the tangle aside before looking back up at her.

"I told you, I've been w-working with some people…" he starts, his attention turning to her bike. Now that he knows where the main wiring had been placed on Dredd's bike he finds and disengages the set on hers much more quickly. He reaches for the scanner on the floor by his hip before lying back down and examining both bikes more closely. He can feel her eyes on him and knows he's not getting off that easily.

"After Peach Trees I f-found the church…" he hesitates. With a heavy sigh he pushes himself off the floor and collects the small pile of wires and electronics he's pulled off the undercarriage of both bikes, carrying it to one of the work tables along the wall. He dumps the whole lot of it into what appears to be an industrial grinder and presses the red button on the front panel. The resulting sound is jarring albeit brief and he dumps the metal dust and wire scraps into a small metal can. This he takes to the opposite corner of the room, pulling open the vent on a small incinerator and dumping the contents of the can inside.

"Can never be too careful," he mumbles before giving both bikes one last pass of the scanner before he rights himself, his attention now turned to Anderson.

"So l-look… maybe I s-shouldn't have brought you here but to be honest, w-we need at least one Judge in this city w-we can trust, ok? Ok so maybe I thought, after what happened," he drifts, shrugging his shoulders as he glances once back at the imposing Judge silently holding up the wall behind him. Refocusing his attention on Anderson he continues, motioning subtly at the small stack of paper on the table behind her.

"We call ourselves The Church of the Most Righteous. It's a cover. W-we help people who have been stolen, slaved, sold, you name it, w-we try and get them out. It's not like it's a s-surprise that human trafficking's a problem, right?" he asks, less of a question than a statement, "and I don't think I need to tell either of you that w-we have a corrupt Judge problem in this sector." That statement earns him a low rumble from Dredd but he doesn't flinch, much to Anderson's surprise.

She has to admit she's impressed, and not just at his ulterior motive. A church would be a good cover as most had fallen out of favor, gone underground, or been wiped out by their own corruption. The practice of religion wasn't illegal, certainly, but faith was something hard to come by anymore and those few remaining churches were seen as little more than hapless cults. Generally, as long as bodies didn't start cropping up, the Hall paid them no mind. She fully expects this sort of visibility is exactly what his group was counting on. Picking up the stack of paper behind her she starts to look through it, her curiosity peaked. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and takes a few careful steps closer, acutely aware of Dredd's gaze at his back.

The papers seem to have been put in some sort of intentional order and she is mindful to not shuffle them as she looks them over. Each is printed on what would appear to be letterhead but she is quick to notice that the addresses are different on each page. They are dated, the most recent at the top from three days prior, and the bodies read much like a worship program with a recounting of page numbers for songs and reading as well as a count of priests, deacons, brothers and sisters, as well as congregants. It would all seem so unremarkable if it weren't for the fact that it was clearly bogus. He can rightly guess that was her next question. He pulls his hands from his pockets, pointing towards the sheets excitedly.

"It's all code," he starts and she can feel what could only be described as a glow from him, a nervous yet eager energy drawing her in. She'd be lying to say she didn't feel a little wave of relief from him as well. He begins to talk faster, if that was possible, and his stutter abates as he explains what she's seeing.

"The dates are the only thing you are s-seeing that isn't coded, really. The block name and l-level in the address there, that's like what you guys would use for ummm, like a case number, and the Judge in charge, or in our case one of the priests. If you are looking for the actual block and l-level and, in some cases we may even have info on clusters of rooms, that's coded there in the Opening Prayer. We have codes for the gangs, different slaver rings, the names of the heads of those rings, repeat buyers, and… and yeah, some of the dirty Judges we've encountered, and those are coded as the page numbers and names for songs there," he rattles quickly, that last part garnering Dredd's attention as he pushes off the wall and starts towards them. He passes the twitchy man a glance as he reaches his gloved hand towards Anderson, motioning for the stack of paper. Looking over the top few sheets silently, he turns his attention fully towards the tech before handing the stack back to Anderson.

"I don't see any Judges' names on there, or anything else for that matter," he grumbles, expecting clarification. He gets it.

"We're not stupid… if someone finds one of those we don't want them knowing w-what it is or tracing it back to us. You have to understand," he explains, his voice faltering. "We've had cases, w-women grabbed and sold off as slaves, sex slaves, the w-worst kind of stuff, w-when you know they'll never be s-seen alive again, and we've found out where they were, w-where they were being held, by who, we've called the Hall. We've asked for help. And what we got were the women vanished and the s-slavers continuing b-business as usual. W-what can we do then? We track the names of the Judges listed as responding, and over time we just… we just s-stop calling the Hall. We fend for ourselves. But… but we need help. This is too big, bigger than us. W-we need a Judge… Judges… we can trust."

Silence falls between the three for a long moment, the Judges letting what they've heard process as the nervous man catches his breath. The quiet is broken when Anderson speaks up.

"What can we do to help?" she asks, immediately hit by the sensation of relief and elation emanating from their informant. She worries for a moment that his knees may give way as he runs his hands through his wiry curls and hurries towards one of the work tables, searching for something. She watches him curiously as he finds a small device and scurries towards his computer tangle. The Judges follow, looking over his shoulder as his fingers move swiftly. Prying the plastic case apart he pulls out an electronic board no bigger than an inch square and pops the chip out of the middle of it. He bends the chip in his fingers, back and forth until it snaps, and deposits it and the casing into another rusty metal can at his feet. Reaching behind the large monitor on the table he fishes a coffee cup out from between the cords and pulls out another chip. This one he plugs into a slot on the computer before one of the monitor screens goes blank, a blinking green cursor appearing at the top. He types furiously, glowing green symbols scrolling against the black background and never once does he blink or hesitate. With a final keystroke the screen displays "Activated" and goes black once more. He presses a release at the side of the machine and the chip pops out into his hand, the screen returning to display the feed from the cameras outside. He snaps the chip back into the board and turns to look at the two Judges standing over him. He looks between them a moment before speaking.

"You don't w-wear a helmet," he states, clearly directed at Anderson. She raises an eyebrow before he turns his attention to Dredd.

"I'll need to give this to you, then," he continues, pausing to gauge how much resistance he's going to get. Dredd looks down at him a moment before extending his hand to take the chip.

"Ah close, but not quite," he replies a bit nervously. Knowing better, he begins to explain.

"This is a communication chip. It will allow myself or another Deacon to s-send you a text based transmission that won't be intercepted by the Hall's communication frequencies. It needs to be plugged in to your wrist comm, for power, but will display in your overhead in your helmet. And s-since we're pretty sure yours is a permanent extension of your skull we know we can always contact you."

Anderson manages, with some effort, to stifle the snicker. Dredd lets it go as Techie continues.

"We can send you, directly, block and l-level and any other information we have concerning an active incident. By bypassing the Hall system we avoid attracting the attention of any Judges who may be involved…"

Dredd pauses noticeably, processing what he's being told. Sensing his hesitation Techie clarifies, flipping the button sized board over in his hands.

"This little w-wire here, with the clip," he explains, flicking the tiny wire with his finger, "I just need to slide it in under the leather to keep it in place and attach that clip there to the b-battery so it has power. Beyond that it is untraceable and won't otherwise interfere with your comms, I sw-wear. You saved my ass, I wouldn't screw you."

Anderson watches the exchange intently, her awareness peaked as she feels a new sensation ebb from Dredd, one she has not experienced before from anyone and apparently directed at the slender man in front of him. She hears the larger man sigh as he begins to unbuckle the wrist comm from his forearm and hand it cautiously to Techie. That subtle sensation is quickly trampled by relief from the nervous man as he flips the wrist comm over and pulls back a panel to expose the electronics. She and Dredd both peer over to watch but she can sense that he does so more out of honest curiosity than distrust. As promised, the tech clips the dangling end of the wire to the battery housing and stuffs the tiny board in under the leather before snapping the unit back together and handing it back to Dredd.

"Let's test it!" he exclaims excitedly and wheels his chair towards the cluster of monitors and keyboards. Dredd is left turning his wrist over and examining the work. He looks up sharply before cocking his head. Techie looks up at him, curious.

"Did it work?" he asks, his hands fidgeting at the keys. Dredd responds with a slow nod.

"I've got 'TEST TEST Deacon Peter 13th Street Rectory' reading at my top left overhead," Dredd answers, a curious tone in his voice. Techie barely contains his delight. After a moment of personal celebration from within his tangle of cables it occurs to him to explain.

"That's me, and that's here… so if you ever see that come up, without the test test part obviously, that means I need help here. Since um… yeah since you guys don't know the codes I'll always send you actual block names and levels," he rattles, the excitement evident in his voice.

"So your name is Deacon Peter then, or is that code too?" Anderson interjects, drawing his attention and momentary silence. She can tell he's rolling something around in his head before he speaks.

"I'm a Deacon with the Church… it is my rank. S-so yeah Deacons are support, I guess you can call it. L-logistics. We keep the code, handle the communications, that sort of thing. Priests are the ones with the resources. They secure the s-safe houses, find the vans, they have the money. The Brothers and Sisters are the foot soldiers in all this. Many of them are people we helped who w-wanted to stay on afterwards. They're the eyes, ears, and often the ones who go in and try to spring the congregants. Oh yeah… congregants… you saw that on the report sheet. Those are the people we're trying to help. I… I don't know what we'll call you. I'll let you know when we do…" he trails off, as though this thought has distracted him.

Their attention is turned at once to the small door as it pushes open, the lanky young woman from earlier slipping in and pushing herself back up onto her perch, her knees tucked up to her chest as her long blonde hair spills over her arms like a veil. Deacon Peter looks over at her, waiting until the door clicks closed before speaking.

"All clear?" he asks. She replies with a nod and speaks for the first time, her voice barely audible.

"Sister Emina came home," is all she says and he doesn't ask anything further. She props her chin on her arms folded in front of her and peers out between her bangs at the two Judges, falling silent. Her return, however, seems to remind Deacon Peter that some time has passed.

"You two may be noticed missing soon… if… it would be b-best if you cleared the garage before starting your bikes. It'll kick your comms back on and I'd rather avoid emitting a s-signal from in here. The last thing we need is for s-someone to come nosing around," he states quietly, moving towards the lift gate. Dredd and Anderson don't need any further explanation than that.

"We're all clear then," Dredd asks before releasing the stand and pushing the Lawmaster towards the gate. Deacon Peter nods.

"You can though, m-maybe to be safe… I mean once they figure out they aren't getting a s-signal anymore… they may try another tracker or just try something else. M-maybe stop by on patrol in a few days, a week? I can run the scan again. Just to, ya know… make sure," he says with a shrug and the suggestion doesn't make Dredd particularly happy but they can't fault the man for being honest. He receives a curt nod in reply and Anderson begins pushing her Lawmaster out behind Dredd, looking around the room and over at the young woman one last time before ducking out from under the gate. Deacon Peter stands under the gate until they are clear, watching. Anderson straddles her Lawmaster before looking back at him.

"Be careful out there," she tells him across the garage and he seems at first unsure how to respond to her concern. He simply shakes his head before tucking back under the gate.

"I should be telling you that, I think," he mumbles before the gate rattles and jerks, drawing closed with a crawl. He can't see her sigh but Dredd can hear it, waiting for her to catch up. Side by side they push their Lawmasters out towards the street and onto the asphalt before starting their engines, the displays glowing bright and Dredd's helmet display coming into his vision once again. After a moment's adjustment he looks over at Anderson.

"Back to the Hall," is all he says as he revs his engine. She begins to respond and freezes.

_ Was nice meeting you..._

Anderson raises a hand swiftly and looks around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice in her head. Dredd sets his feet down heavily and looks back into the garage, his guard up. After a long pause she lowers her hand and looks over at him, shaking her head.

"Yeah, the Hall," is all she'll say, leaving him somewhat confused but he knows not to press the issue. As they pull away from the curb she hesitates just long enough to look back and up at the slender silhouette perched along a high balcony of Caliber block.


End file.
